


It Takes Two to Tango

by silverducks



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-23
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-22 22:03:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverducks/pseuds/silverducks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eighteen year old Sif is horrified when she discovers she has to attend the next Asgardian Ball. Not only will she have to wear a dress, but she'll have to dance! Unable to face the embarrassment of proper dancing classes, she enlists Loki's help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Hi! This story is meant to be a bit of a silly, but I hope humourous and entertaining look at a younger Sif and Loki. There will be a good few chapters, so I hope you continue reading. It was written for this prompt over at LJs Norsekink - "I'd like to see Loki teach Sif how to dance for a formal occasion at Asgard."_

 _NB - I have recently combined chapters 1 and 2, as I've decided it flows much better this way!  
_

\---------------------------------

“Ow!” Sif cried out as a pin pierced her skin. It was only a sharp, mild pain, but it caught Sif by surprise. “Watch what you are doing, mother!”

“Well, if you would stay still, Sif, it would be far easier.” Her mother chastised, looking up at her from the floor, where she knelt to hem Sif’s dress.

“I do not see why I even have to go!” Sif answered sullenly.

“Because you are coming of age and you are a well bred lady of this realm.” Her mother sighed, standing up and brushing her palms down her legs wearily.

“But I do not want to be a lady, I want to be a warrior!” Sif replied indignantly, spinning round in her ill fitting ball gown to face her mother.

“And so you shall, Sif.” Her mother irritably turned her back around before she began pinning her bodice. “But you are eighteen now and must be formally presented at court to the King and Queen.”

“But why?” Sif cried, unashamed by how petulant she sounded. She may be training to be a warrior of Asgard, but she should still be able to whine at her mother when she felt like it. “I already see the King and Queen all the time! I only saw them yesterday when me, Thor and Loki were…” She let her voice trail off, deciding reminding her mother of _that_ would not help her case too much.

“Quite,” her mother replied, before she let out an audible sigh which did make Sif feel slightly guilty. She knew she was always a disappointment to her parents, not doing what a normal lady should do, but being a proper lady was so boring! “But why must I attend some stupid coming out ball when I have no intentions of being a lady!”

“Well, how else are you ever going to be accepted by the court and find a husband?”

“But I have no desire for a husband!” Sif spun around and stamped her foot then, not caring when a few pins fell out of her dress.

“You will one day.”  Her mother sighed wearily again and ignored her daughter’s venomous glare. “Oh Sif, you have no choice! You are required to attend your first Asgardian ball when you turn eighteen, whether you want to, or not.”

Sif sulked a few moments more, clenching her fists in the stupid red dress her mother had made her put on. “Fine!” She eventually cried, “But why do I have to wear this stupid dress!”

“Because you are not a boy, Sif.”

“So! Why can I not wear my normal armour, it is far more comfortable.” Anything would be more comfortable than this ridiculously fluffy hooped skirt and the stupid corset her mother had forced her into. It had taken a few moments to learn how to even breathe in the thing and that was saying something, for Sif was used to tight bindings for protection underneath her armour.

“If you wear your armour, Sif, everyone will think you are a boy.” When her daughter continued to glower at her, she added teasingly, “And then you will have to dance with the girls.”

Sif wrinkled her nose up in disgust at that thought, she hated when she was made to spend time with the other girls; they were so silly and boring. All they talked about were clothes and jewels and all they did was giggle and hatch up plots to spy on the boys. The boys had always been much more interesting to talk to, though even then they sometimes had an annoying tendency to talk about the girls. At least _they_ were much more easily distracted by talk of weapons and fighting.

Mercifully, her mother had soon given up on making Sif spend any amount of time with the silly, giggly girls a few years ago. The fact that she had punched stupid Sigyn in the nose may have helped influence her mother’s decision, not that that was why she had done it, of course. As she told her mother, it was the silly tart’s fault for spreading false rumours about Loki. How dare the little brat besmirch her friend’s name and claim to have kissed him behind the weapons store room!

“Fine! But I am not standing around for any more of these stupid fittings!” She pulled away from her mother and stomped towards her room, ignoring the pins as they stuck into her. She had just reached the door when her mother called out, “Make sure you are back by six, Sif, you have a dancing class at seven.”

“What!” Sif spun around on her heels so fast that nearly all the pins cascaded to the floor and the hooped skirt banged against the wall. She glared at her mother with such venom in her fierce gaze it would have made even Thor draw back from her in fear.

Her mother, however, just crossed her arms and looked at her daughter in mild condescension. “Yes, you have a dancing class at 7, Sif, and I would prefer for you not to be late.”

“Why on earth do I need to learn to dance!”                                    

“Well, how else are you going to dance at the ball?”

Sif sputtered a moment, before she quickly countered, “I do not need to dance! I just need to go, that is all!”

Another sigh of exasperation was the first response from her mother, before she said, much more gently, “You will be expected to dance, Sif, and if you do not know how, it will not only bring shame upon us all, but embarrass you exceedingly.”

Sif continued to glower at her mother, her gaze all the more venomous as she conceded the truth within the words. She was not quite willing to give up the fight yet though, “I still do not need stupid dancing lessons!”

“And what is wrong with dancing lessons?”

“I am a warrior, mother! Not some stupid lady.” Sif suddenly dropped her glare as a flicker of panic crossed her face, “Oh no, what if anyone should find out I have even been booked for them? They will never take me seriously again!”

“Oh Sif, you do over exaggerate!”

Sif’s reply was to glare at her mother fiercely again, “I will dance if I have to at the ball, but I will _not_ be attending any stupid dance classes!”

“And how else will you learn to dance?”

“I will find a way, mother, but _I will not be going_!” With that, Sif turned once more on her heel and ignored her mother’s pleading words as she banged her door shut behind her.

She quickly ripped off her stupid gown and threw it in the corner in her temper. She was not able to undo the tight corset though, so instead she just flung her armour over the top. Grabbing her sword and shield, Sif flew back out of her room and headed towards the door.

“Be back by six, Sif, do not forget!”

Sif’s glare at her mother would have frozen even the Frost Giants in fear, before Sif slammed the door shut behind her again and marched off towards the training grounds.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

When Thor, Loki and the Warriors Three saw Sif approach the training ground, they immediately stowed their weapons away and pretended to be deep in conversation. They knew full well what that fast, determined stride meant and fighting with her whilst she was in this obviously foul mood would be no fun for any of them. Only Thor could rival Sif for foul, bad tempered moods, though they were not sure who was worse to fight with.

“Who will fight with me?” Sif shouted as she came within hearing distance. They all turned their heads away from her, but poor Hogun was the one closest to the edge and a quick push from Thor and Fandral saw him stumble into Sif’s path as she came to a sudden stop beside them, the dust rising up in her wake.

“Hogun will.” Fandral called out, as he picked up a sword and threw it to the ground next to the poor man’s feet.

Sif glared down at the poor man, before walking past him to the fighting circle and taking up her battle stance. She ignored the words of encouragement and the friendly slaps on Hogun’s back as he walked towards her, his face looking more grim than usual.

The fight did not last long and before Sif had even got out of breath, or belted out all the frustration within her, Hogun was lying flat on his back on the dusty floor, the tip of Sif’s sword nudging into his throat. “Do you yield?” She asked, pushing her sword that bit closer.

“Yes, yes, definitely yes!” Hogun croaked, quickly standing up and limping back to the others, doing his best to ignore their chuckles and remarks.

Sif watched him scramble away in contempt, beating him was far too easy. “Who will challenge me now?” She called out, placing her hand on her hip and swishing her sword through the air, her gaze defiant and still filled with her intense frustration and anger.

They all looked between them nervously, but before Fandral could push anyone else out into the ring, Loki’s quick wit saved them all. “Well, technically Sif, there is no one left to challenge. For Hogun has defeated us all this day and so, by beating him, you have beaten us all.”

Sif glared at Loki, for his words and his faint mocking tone annoyed her, but then everything about Loki seemed to grate on her nerves lately. “Then I am champion today?” Sif asked, her voice unsure.

“Of course,” Loki answered and the other four quickly murmured their agreement. She continued to glare at him until he flinched slightly and drew back from her fierce gaze, worried she may choose him to fight next. Luckily she heeded his words and sheathed her sword instead, before walking towards them. They quickly moved out of her way, just in case, and only Thor was brave enough to ask the question they all wanted to know, “What is wrong with you anyway, Sif? Poor Hogun’s not going to able to sit for week!”

“Hey!” Hogun suddenly called out, defending his honour, but they ignored him as all eyes turned expectantly on Sif. Having her friends around her to listen helped dissipate some of Sif’s anger and she sat down on the dusty floor heavily. “It is mother,” she eventually said, rolling her eyes as if that explained everything.

When she appeared about to say no more, Volstagg decided to take his own chance, “What, may I ask, Lady Sif, has your mother done now.”

Sif kicked her legs out suddenly and banged them hard on the earth, making all five men jump in surprise. “She is making me go to the wretched coming out ball!”

“Ahhhh,” the five men all exclaimed at once, their faces suddenly filling with sympathy rather than fear and they sat down beside her.

“I am sure it will not be so bad, Sif.” Fandral offered, earning him a lethal glare which he immediately shrank back from.

“But the ball is usually fun, Sif! We drink, feast and be merry all night long!” Thor added and banged her playfully on her back. Sif’s glare at Thor was not quite as malicious as she whined, “But it is different for you, you are not a woman!”

When Sif’s exclamation led to five faces of confusion, Sif smacked her fist in frustration onto the dusty ground, causing the confusion to flicker quickly into fright. “You do not have to wear silly dresses and stand around looking pretty, or worry about shaming your family when you dance.”

Sif was surprised when this announcement was met with chuckling, but before she could glare at them all in turn, she realised their laughter was directed at Thor, not at her.

“I do not know about that, Sif,” Fandral explained, “Thor is quite the entertainer when it comes to dancing!”

This was met with heartier chuckling and Thor turned slightly pink in embarrassment, looking down at the ground, “It was not my fault Freya has two left feet.”

“I think it is you with two left feet, brother,” Loki added, his face curved into a smirk, “but luckily the healing herbs worked quickly on her broken toes.”

Sif felt her face grow pale as apprehension started trickling through her blood. She had not known dancing could be such a dangerous activity. Perhaps proper dancing lessons would not be such a bad idea after all. No! She thought firmly, she would rather die than have anyone know she had taken dancing lessons! How could she ever face them in combat ever again! It was almost as bad as the sewing class her mother had mistakenly tried to drag her to when she was younger. Sif had soon shown her mother how much of a bad idea that was.

“Do not worry, Lady Sif,” Volstagg said, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder as he noticed her face pale. “Unless you are as badly coordinated as Thor, you will be fine.”

“But it is different for Thor!” Sif exclaimed, “He is the prince and no one will mind him being stupid! And none of you will have to suffer the shame of disappointing your mother yet again!”

They looked nervously at Sif then, they all knew full well from Sif’s stories what her mother could be like and they did not like the way her voice and expression grew in anger and her fingers began clutching at her sword hilt.

“Voltstagg, is it not time for dinner soon?” Hogun asked quickly.

“Why yes, I do believe it is. And we do not want to be late.” Volstagg answered and the five men quickly stood up, eager to escape before Sif’s resurging frustration could lead to any more challenges or fights.

Sif watched them hurry away, but did not follow. She was too consumed with terrifying images of her dancing with a poor man and breaking his toes, of the court standing around laughing at her and her mother looking on in disgust. Sif shivered suddenly with fear, it would be no good! She would have to take those rotten dance classes after all, for surely the embarrassment of that would be less than making a fool of herself before the entire court. She stood up wearily, feeling sad and drained now, all fighting spirit slipped away as she admitted defeat. She had no choice, it was that or…

Suddenly Sif noticed Loki lingering behind, picking up a few books from the floor and tidying up his study notes. She narrowed her eyes at his back as a plan began to form in her mind. Ever one for action over meticulous plotting, she quickly stepped towards him. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him along as she headed for the outskirts of the training ground. Loki was too surprised to stop her and simply spluttered a few weak protests as his study notes dropped to the floor around him.

As they reached the quiet and privacy of the back of weapons store room, Sif pushed him back against the wall. Loki looked at her in surprise, before looking around at his surroundings and saying almost to himself, “I think the last time I was dragged round here was by Sigyn, when she…” He suddenly stopped and cleared his throat, before looking down at her, “But that is another story.” His shock and indignation faded into a smirk and Sif saw mischief begin dancing in his deep emerald eyes. “So, what can I do for you, Lady Sif?”

Sif found Loki’s smirk far too annoying and her thoughts became distracted by the words Loki had said. So that little slut Sigyn had been telling the truth! Sif was glad she had broken her nose then and Sif found herself having to fight the inexplicable urge to break Loki’s too, as a strange sense of annoyance ran through her veins. She decided quickly it would not be a good idea to punch him before he had agreed to help her, so instead she just stabbed her finger into his chest. “I need you to teach me how to dance.”

\-------------------------------

 _NB - The whole idea of a "coming out ball" is based on the London Season, which was popular for the upper classes in the 19th and early 20th century. Then, young girls when they reached the age of about 17-18, had their first "season" and a coming out ball in London, where the aim was to track down a nice (and preferably rich!) husband!  
_

 _Anyway, thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. More chapters will be on their way soon!  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N - I had a bit of trouble posting this story last time, so you may not have read the full version of the previous chapter. If you have read the part where Sif goes to see the Warriors Three, Loki and Thor, you're sorted, if not, I suggest you head to the end of chapter 1 first, otherwise this chapter will make little sense!_

 _Sorry for all the confusion and I hope you enjoy reading chapter 2!_   
_\----------------------_

It was not often that Loki was surprised and caught unawares, and certainly not by someone usually so incredibly predictable as Sif. He always prided himself on being the one to trick others, of predicting _them_ enough to know their actions before even they did. Yet in less than a minute, Sif had not only left him sputtering as she had dragged him away, but now she had him speechless. It did not help matters when he found himself remembering when he had last been dragged around here by a fine maiden. It took only a mere heartbeat to know that was far from Sif’s intention and he quickly pushed that fleeting thought aside. It never did do any good to let thoughts like that linger; everyone knew Sif was meant for his brother. Even that seemed less incredulous than this request though and he struggled to maintain his composure. Teach her to dance? What in all the nine realms was she asking that of him for?

He just about managed to stop his smirk from slipping. He was proud of his smirk, enjoyed how it got on people’s nerves, especially Sif’s, and he did so take pleasure in annoying her. It helped make it easier to push down those inappropriate emotions that all too often invaded his heart. Judging by her deepening scowl, this time was no exception and she jabbed her finger harder into his chest. Just to infuriate her further, he waited a few moments to respond, widening his smirk as his mind quickly thought through the possibilities. It was not easy, trying to think with Sif this close and so, maintaining as little actual contact with her as possible, he gently rested only the tips of his fingers on her shoulders and pushed backwards. The movement had little force, but it caught Sif unawares and she stepped back suddenly, her surprise only deepening Loki’s devious smile. “And why, my Lady Sif, do you ask this of me?”

The first response from Sif was to glare at him further. She could tell from his sly expression he was going to enjoy watching her suffer and for a fleeting moment she was tempted to just turn around and walk away. Surely the trauma and embarrassment of dancing lessons could not surpass the indignity of suffering under Loki’s favour. As her irritation grew though, so did her determination and she dug her heels into the ground, clenching her fists to resist the urge to punch him. She was a warrior, or training to be, who had already faced all manner of foe and she would not see her courage wane now under the mocking and mischievous eyes of the trickster. Instead, after she felt she had glared at him long enough, she spoke, her voice full of contempt to ensure Loki understood how much she disliked having to ask _him_ for anything. “And I thought you were meant to be clever! Why do you think? I need to know how to dance and you seem like the logical choice.”

When Loki raised his eyebrow at her, his smugness increasing, Sif decided to continue, though she was careful not to flatter him. “Well, I can hardly ask Thor can I! Neither Fandral or Volstagg can keep a secret and Hogun would no doubt find it far too eccentric to even consider!” She narrowed her eyes at him further, “That leaves me no choice but to ask you, Loki.” Obviously, Sif did not add that, out of them all, she expected Loki to be the best dancer, for whenever they fought, he always had a strange grace about him, fighting with skill and precision and not the brute force of so many warriors.

“Oh how you flatter me, Lady Sif. I do not think I can take such fine compliments from you.”

Sif rolled her eyes at Loki’s mocking tone, before glaring once more. “You do know how to dance? I _assumed_ as a Prince of Asgard, who has attended balls before, you would at least have a vague idea?”

“And the flattery turns to mockery, Lady Sif. Oh how you wound me.” At this, he held his hands over his heart in feigned injury. “You have so little faith in me; I am surprised you trust me to keep this secret.”

“I do not, Loki!” Sif snapped, scowling as she took a threatening step towards him. “I merely assume you would dislike for people to know as much as I would.” She was already tired of his games, but she was not going to back out now. “Are you going to help me, or not?”

A thoughtful expression replaced Loki’s smirk for a moment, but Sif was not fooled. She knew full well he had decided his decision as soon as it was asked. Eventually, when he obviously felt he had toyed with her enough, he deigned to say, “My Lady, I feel so common for asking this, but, what is in it for me?”

Whilst Sif would call Loki a friend, if pressed, she knew full well the trickster was not known for his kindness and charitable behaviour. His reply then was no surprise, expected even, yet it was the final straw for Sif and her anger and irritation flared to life. Before she even realised what she was doing, she stepped forwards, grabbed Loki by the collar, lifted him up and pushed him back against the wall. She only felt a small measure of guilt when she heard the bang of his skull hitting the wall. It served him right after all and she had dealt him worse blows than that in the training grounds. Her guilt eased completely when Loki’s only reaction was to look down at her haughtily and she pushed him harder, annoyed at herself for displaying her anger so blatantly. “I could threaten you, Loki, or challenge you to a fight.”

At Loki’s condescending smirk, Sif shoved him backwards once more in frustration, before suddenly releasing her hold so he fell to the ground. Sadly for her, he found his footing immediately and merely rolled his eyes in pretend exasperation, brushing down his tunic and straightening his collar with far too much superiority. “I would have thought even someone like you would realise that threatening me is not the best way to acquire my… full cooperation.”

Sif glared at him, but she could see the sense in his words. She crossed her arms in anger, though in part it was to resist the urge to push him back against the wall. “Fine! What do you want?”

Loki smirked and looked thoughtful simultaneously, not an easy trick, but Loki had done his best to perfect that expression; it came in particularly helpful with Thor. The possibilities of Sif being in his debt were delicious, to the say the least, and he did not want to miss making her squirm. He liked the idea of having power over her, of seeing her suffer somewhat. It was a strange sort of satisfying irony, a revenge for the way she had always treated him as inferior and the knowledge that she would always favour his brother…

He came to his answer quickly, but he waited a good few moments before he shared it with Sif. “Two things.” He paused and waited for Sif to react, only continuing when her glare intensified. “Firstly, I need someone tolerably intelligent to help write up my study notes. As the ball is less than a fortnight away, and…” Here he paused and made a point of looking Sif up and down contemptuously, his smirk turning into a distasteful frown. “As I can see we _clearly_ have our work cut out, it would require a large amount of my time.”

Sif did her best to not squirm under his penetrating and mocking gaze, though she could not help but bristle under Loki’s barely concealed insults. The fact that her skin seemed to tingle slightly, and her heartbeat quicken, merely added to her irritation.

Loki’s smirk returned and he continued mischievously, “I would therefore require four weeks of your time to compensate.”

“Four weeks!” Sif cried indignantly. That was more than returning the favour, that was blatantly taking advantage of her misfortune! “That is completely ridiculous, two weeks, at most!”

Loki merely shrugged his shoulders and held out his hands in mock surrender, causing Sif to jab her finger in his chest once more, unable to quite contain her irritation. “Fine, three weeks!”

At Loki’s exaggerated sigh, Sif glared at him ferociously, but she knew she had no choice, he had her pretty much at his mercy and they both knew it. Beside, she was loathed to give Loki the satisfaction of backing out now, if that was his aim. “Okay, fine, four weeks, _after_ the ball, when I know you have fulfilled your end of the bargain

“But of course. Though your lack of trust in me is quite hurtful, my dear Lady.”

“And you always give me good reason, Loki Odinson! And your second request?”

Her question made Loki’s smirk falter momentarily and a fleeting, unreadable expression crossed his face, before the mischief returned to his eyes. “I would like you to save the last dance for me.”

Sif blinked in surprise, ignoring the way her heart seemed to jump at the thought. What an odd thing to ask, though it did not seem too important and no doubt she would have been expected to dance with the second prince anyway. “Alright!” She nodded and was about to spit into her hand, when Loki suddenly reached out and grabbed it.

The movement surprised Sif and she quickly pulled her hand away, her skin suddenly burning at his touch. She looked up, her breath catching in her throat as she met Loki’s gaze; he looked almost as surprised and unsettled by his reaction as she had. His smirk had fallen and a strange intensity seemed to flicker within his eyes for the briefest of moments. His voice, when he spoke, was thick, heavy, “I think we are old enough now to not require such silly, childish behaviour.”

Sif nodded, shrugging her shoulders in false nonchalance, pushing down the sudden, inexplicable tightness within her. She quickly held out her hand to him, before she lost her nerve. He looked at it warily, as if afraid it would strike, then reached over and shook it, hastily, letting go of it almost immediately.

Still feeling distinctly uncomfortable and unsettled, she quickly turned on her heel and stormed off, feeling a strange, overriding need to be away from Loki’s presence. It was almost a fear, a caution, creeping through her veins, heightened by the feel of his eyes boring intensely into her back. Just as she was about to pass out of his sight, she heard him call her name, his tone back to its usual mocking playfulness and she was thoroughly tempted to ignore it. She stopped, but did not give him the satisfaction of turning around.

“Meet me in the forest, after your weapons training, tomorrow.”

A brief pause from Sif, then she continued to march away, trying to outpace the odd, fluttering in her heart and the gnawing feeling in her mind that this was not such a good idea, after all…

 

The banqueting hall was Sif’s destination and she did not slow her pace until she reached it. Even then she quickly marched over to her friends, already tucking into the finest foods Asgard had to other. They looked up warily as she approached and drew back from her slightly, anxious looks passing between them. They could clearly see her mood had little improved and they were ever cautious. Even away from the training grounds, an angry Sif was not to be trifled with. It was, of course, poor Hogun yet again who got pushed, this time to the side so that the spare space was next to him and Sif slumped into her seat, banging her arms down in irritation.

Fandral, quick to react, called over a serving maid and motioned for her to bring food over, immediately. The maid rushed off in a hurry and Fandral was distracted for a moment, watching her.

“Where have you been, Lady Sif?” It was Volstagg who first risked speaking a good few moments later, swiftly picking up a chicken thigh to hide behind as Sif scowled at him.

“You left without me!”

Even the courageous Warriors Three flinched at her tone and Hogun offered carefully, “We thought you were behind us, Sif. What delayed you?”

At that moment, the nervous maid returned and a plate piled high with food appeared before Sif. She dug in quickly, the sight making her stomach rumble and anxious, even in her frustration, to avoid answering the question. She would have to think of some excuse, and soon, for why she was going to be disappearing rather more frequently lately. The food helped calm her irritation and gradually her friends relaxed around her. Whenever someone entered the hall though, Sif’s eyes would seek them out and when she realised it was not Loki, she felt an odd combination of relief and disappointment…

Loki did not appear that evening and Sif felt the apprehension in her heart and mind increase as she thought upon what the next few weeks held for her. Even laughing and joking with her friends could not displace this gnawing trepidation and if she joined in with Thor and Volstagg’s exuberant story telling with more than her usual enthusiasm, she hoped her friends would merely put it down to her vexation over the dance.

The anxiety only continued to grow as the evening wore on and followed Sif when she eventually returned home, having run out of conversations and excuses to keep her friends from retiring. It was only a short walk, but Sif always longed for the day when she would become a fully fledged warrior of Asgard and given her own chambers in the palace.

So lost was Sif in her contradicting thoughts and doubts, she was rather taken aback when she found her mother waiting for her, arms crossed and a thunderous look on her face.

“Where in nine realms have you been?”

Sif was used to her mother being angry whenever she returned home with ripped dresses and bruised knees, but this time her mother’s voice could hardly contain her fury and Sif stalled slightly in her march. She just about managed to keep her voice flippant as she responded, “I have been dining, at the palace.”

“You were meant to be back by six, Sif.”

“And I told you I was not going.” She turned and faced her mother, her annoyance overcoming her slight fear at her mother’s fierce expression.

“And how then, Sif, are you planning to learn to dance?”

Sif could not help but smirk, a smug expression she oddly thought even Loki would approve of. “Loki is going to teach me.” Then, before her mother could rein in her shock at this unexpected development, Sif turned on her heel and marched to her room, rather savouring the look of complete astonishment on her mother’s face.

She just about made it to the door of her room when her mother’s words followed her, “I hope you know what you are doing, Sif.”

“Of course, mother!” Sif called over her shoulder, though, as she shut the door behind her, she found herself wishing she could be sure of her own words.


	3. Chapter 3

_Firstly, a massive apology for taking so long to update this story. I certainly have not abandoned it, but I’ve been suffering from writer’s block for a while now. I fear, due to this, this chapter is not quite up to scratch. Still, I hope you enjoy it and I will try to get the next chapter written soon, and hopefully to a much better quality!_

\------------------------

A small chink of light slipped through the curtains and fell across Sif’s face, but it did not disturb her. She was already wide awake; screwing her eyes shut in the hopes that restful sleep would find her. But all that had found her were thoughts and worries, turning around in her mind all night. So, when dawn broke and the sunlight flittered through into her room, Sif all but jumped out of bed, eager for the chance to finally escape her restless night and worrying dreams. She quickly slipped on her armour, grabbed her pack, sword and shield and was almost at the front door before she heard her mother’s voice ring out from the kitchen, “Breakfast is ready.”

Sif reached out and grabbed the door handle, warring with herself about whether to stay or run before her mother could catch her. Her grip tightened, then she let go and turned round, a scowl lining her features. It was not often Sif listened to her mother, but breakfast was the one meal she insisted Sif attend, as recompense for her absence the rest of the day. Sif knew it was an unspoken rule she dare not break and so deepening her scowl, she stomped towards the kitchen, sitting down sulkily in her chair and grabbing the bowl of porridge laid in front of her. She quickly took a large spoonful, then regretted it immediately. Her sleepless, anxious night had left her stomach in knots and she felt the food choking in her throat. She forced the tasteless porridge down, taking another, much smaller bite. She longed to be away, to hear the clashing of metal against metal, the dust of the training ground beneath her feet and the feel of a sword hilt in her hand.

She hardened her grip on the spoon, but made herself eat slowly, eyes cast down; avoiding her mother’s who was watching her intently. Sif never saw the point of this insistence they break their fast together, as a family her mother would chorus, for Sif spoke little, usually ate quick and her father, often a late riser, was very rarely present. Sometimes her mother would even force conversation upon her, but luckily today she remained silent, only speaking as Sif finished up the last few mouthfuls of food, a far cry from the splendour of the food that she had grown accustomed to at the palace.

“When is Prince Loki to begin teaching you?”

Sif’s first answer was to glower at her mother as she dropped her spoon with a deliberately loud clatter on the table. Why did her mother have to bring up _that_ of all things! “Today, if you must know.”

Her mother smiled and if Sif did not know any better, she would say her mother almost seemed to be enjoying Sif’s obvious misery. “Then I wish you luck, Sif. The dancing lessons are still open if you change your mind.” She smiled sweetly at her daughter, before standing and taking the empty bowls to the sink.

If Sif had felt like bailing out of her pact with Loki before, and she could not deny that the thought had repeatedly crossed her mind since the idea came, her mother’s response would have strengthened her resolve completely. Her mother’s assumption that she would somehow fail in her lessons with Loki made her blood seethe and without a single word or glance at her mother, Sif picked up her things and stomped out of the house, banging the door and ignoring her mother’s far too cheerful goodbye.

Her pace did not relent until she reached the training ground and the sight before her made her suddenly stop in her tracks. Her friends Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg, the Warriors Three as they had pompously started to call themselves, were already there, loitering about and play fighting, their presence doing little to soothe the frustration cursing through her veins. If anything, it simply enflamed her all the more, for she had hoped to come here before them, to practice without any distractions and, though she was loathe to admit it, to take out her frustrations without an audience. She was about to turn around and walk away, heading towards the nearby trees on the outskirts of the palace gardens, when her friends saw her and began to wave. Sif was half tempted to ignore them anyway, but after an audible sigh, and a forced slower pace, she walked towards them. They shifted uncomfortably as she approached, watching her and deciphering her mood.

“How fair thee, this fine morning, Lady Sif?” Volstagg asked as she neared them.

Sif tried her best at a polite smile, trying to appear calm as she did not want to upset her friends for a second day with her foul temper. It was not their fault, after all. Still, she did long to fight and, reaching for her sword at her hip, was about to issue a challenge when Fandral chipped in quickly, “You reach us in good time, Sif, for we are just now heading for the palace to break our fast.”

“Aye! That we are, Lady Sif,” Volstagg added and Hogun nodded his head in agreement.

Sif eyed them sharply, they could not fool her with their sudden urge to eat a second time, but she could think of no protests and so removed her hand from her sword and nodded. She did not stop her glare though, as they all breathed a sigh of relief, before she turned towards the palace, marching on ahead of them and pretending to ignore their whispered comments behind her.

“Good morning, friends!” Thor boomed as he stood up to welcome them as they reached the high table in the banqueting hall. “And it is good to see you, Sif. What brings you to the palace so early?”

Sif shifted uncomfortably for a moment, trying to work out how best to phrase her answer. It was unusual for her to arrive at the palace before weapons training and she did not want to explain the real reasons for her untimely appearance. “I rose early and thought I would use the time for extra practice, before training.”

“Aye, but Sif arrived just as we were heading to the palace for breakfast, did she not, Hogun?” Fandral added, as he sat down next to Thor and nodded at his friend. Volstagg had already seated himself and was even now filling his plate high with bacon, eggs and bread.

“She did,” Hogun replied, also seating himself down and avoiding Volstagg’s elbow as the large warrior eagerly began to eat.

Thor looked between his friends for a moment, resuming his own seat, the expression on his face one of concentration as his eyebrows knitted together and his mouth turned into a firm line. A moment later, he slapped Fandral on the back in friendly cheer and his face broke into a smile. “Aye, I can see that was very convenient.”

As Sif took her own seat opposite Thor and began helping herself to food, she glared at him, “And what, pray, do you mean by that?”

Thor’s smile faltered a moment, but he was saved a reply by his brother, who had appeared behind him. “That the Warriors Three are grateful they were saved from being beaten into the dust by the anger of the Warrior Maiden Sif.”

Sif looked up a moment and caught Loki’s eye, then immediately looked down, feeling the knots in her stomach tighten and her face grow hot. She had not seen Loki since she had petitioned him for help yesterday and she felt embarrassed once more that she had to even ask for his favour. Seeing the cruel smirk line his mouth, his eyes shining with mischief and his voice laced with the same smugness as yesterday, made the blood in her veins start to boil.

It did not help that visions of her dreams suddenly flashed before her eyes, awakened by the sight of him. The dreams that had been plaguing her all night long, spinning her around and around in a sea of colours and ball gowns, music and chatter. Faces swirling before her eyes and laughter haunting her, growing in intensity as the spinning grew faster and faster, the faces merging into one as her heartbeat drowned out the music. Her feet were no longer hers as she was passed from one faceless person to another, the laughter turning cold, scornful. Insults joining the chorus and her panic rising, trapping her in the never ending blur of noise and bright lights, blinding her senses. Then, suddenly, the spinning would stop, the music and mocking would cease and only one face would appear before her; Loki’s. He would speak to her, gripping her arms tightly, holding her still, but she could not hear a word, her panic rippling through her, overwhelming her as she tore her arms away. Finding her feet she would run, fast, away from him, from her nameless fears, pushing through the faceless, mocking crowd, their taunting laughter and ridicules filling her ears once more. And Loki’s voice would follow her, her name shouted out above the cacophony of sound as she tried to get away. And the faceless crowd would block her path, push her back, trip her up…

And she would awaken, her pulse racing and her breathing heavy, the cold silence of her room painfully loud and the image of Loki’s face dancing before her eyes... Sometimes in the dreams it was comforting, his eyes concerned and his smile warm. Other times it was as cruel and mocking as the people around her, his lips twisted into a sneer. And now, seeing the same face before her, real flesh and blood and the same smirk lining his features, made her heart start to pound wildly.

She glared into her plate, before she forced the disjointed images from the dreams away and looked up at him, letting all her anger and embarrassment pour out into her glare. She felt momentarily better when he flinched slightly, her confidence growing as she retorted, “You slight both I and the Warriors Three in the same breath, trickster. You had better watch yourself and your tongue at weapons practice.”

“You misunderstand me, my dear Lady Sif, for I have no intention of slighting any at this fine table.” Loki’s voice was calm, feigned innocence, and he held his arms out as if to embrace those around.

This earned him a heartened chuckle from Thor and a fiercer glare from Sif; the Warriors Three looking down at their own plates as they determined to not get involved. Bickerings between the trickster and the warrior maiden were becoming common recently and only Thor was usually brave, or perhaps stupid enough, to come between them. He did so then, gently slapping Sif on the back, though it was not so gentle that it did not stop Sif from chocking slightly on her bread, or Loki smiling at her misfortune. “Aye brother, I think you are wise enough to know the perils of mocking Sif, or indeed anyone who may be able to hear.”

“Perhaps Loki is not so wise as he likes to think, for he does it often enough,” Sif replied after a sip of ale soothed her coughing.

“I merely speak as I find, my Lady. It is up to others how they choose to interpret my words.” His voice sounded so sincere Sif was almost tempted to believe him. Almost, but she had known the trickster for far too long and after another glare, she determinedly fixed her attention on the food in front of her, feeling herself superior for not continuing in the battle of wits with Loki. It was a battle she knew she could not win anyway, for Loki was far better practiced in the warfare of words.

The chatter soon began flowing between the Warriors Three and Thor and Sif continued to cast her eyes down, trying to eat the food piled upon her plate. She was hungry, the porridge at breakfast not sustaining enough, but each bite felt like sawdust in her mouth and her stomach continued to twist and turn with anxiety. She could feel Loki’s eyes watching her, intensifying her concerns. She did not need to meet his eyes to know they would be taunting, his expression smug, and Sif could not even imagine how infuriating he would be this afternoon when their lessons commenced. He always did enjoy teasing others and Sif usually had little patience for Loki’s games, especially as she so often found herself on the receiving end.

“Are you alright, Sif?” Thor suddenly asked and Sif looked up in surprise. It was only then that she realised her friends had begun to notice her sullen, quiet disposition and the tightening of her grip on knife and table. Sif felt their eyes began to flicker over her in concern. “You are not still worried about the ball, are you?”

Sif sighed deeply and put down her knife, deciding that sharing her troubles with friends was probably wise. They _were_ her friends, after all, and should not doubt Sif’s fierceness when it came to battle just because she spoke of her woes now. “I fear I will not stop worrying until the dancing is finished and the ball is over.”

“If it be any help, Sif, I could always tutor you in the dancing,” Thor offered kindly.

The sudden laughter around her and Loki’s teasing words spared Sif the struggle of a reply. “I think Sif would find the use of both her toes helpful in the ball, Thor.” As Thor’s face fell and he turned an interesting shade of pink, the laughter around them increased.

Sif felt slightly guilty at everyone’s amusement at Thor’s expense, so with a quick glare at Loki, she rested her hand reassuringly on Thor’s arm. “Thank you, Thor, but I think I have solved that problem at least.” Her eyes unwittingly travelled to Loki’s then and she saw the arrogant look in his eyes as he held hers in silent challenge. He raised his glass, almost as in a toast, and Sif did her best to swallow her sudden, irrational anger. She knew he was goading her, trying to make her squirm, but she held her ground in this silent battle, for was she not training to be a disciplined and fierce warrior? She only looked away when Volstagg spoke.

“Then what is it that worries you so, Lady Sif?”

It was an interesting question and one Sif had found herself pondering since yesterday. She was fearful of the dancing, that was certain, and disappointing her mother, but her heart was heavy with other worries and a strange sense of foreboding. A quick glance in Loki’s direction made her heart somersault unexpectedly and Sif could at least admit she was worried about him, too, about the bargain struck between them. It was deeper than that, though, an almost irrational fear at the thought of spending time with him, though when she tried to press her own thoughts and concerns, she found herself unable to uncover anything more. A mystery Sif found inexplicably frustrating, as indeed everything about Loki seemed to be to her recently. But she could hardly formulate all that in her own mind, let alone voice it to her friends, so her answer, though true, was only a small portion of the story. “I fear that my mother will only be disappointed in me, no matter what happens at the ball.”

“I am sure you will have no reason to worry, Sif, for I am sure you will make your mother proud.” This time it was Thor who patted her arm in reassurance and Sif gave her friends a weak smile.

It did help her feel better, their support, but the knots still twisted in her stomach. “I fear I will only make my mother proud when I settle down, become a proper lady and find a husband!”

“But you are only young, Sif, she cannot expect all this from you now,” Hogun added sympathetically, causing Sif’s smile to widen in sincerity, for it was not often Hogun took the role of comforter.

“I think she hopes I will find a husband at this darn ball!” Sif scoffed, her voice growing harder at the last words, for she knew full well this was at the root of her mother’s fussing. And the root of her own feelings of anxiety and inadequacy, for this was one matter in which she would never make her mother proud.

Her bitterness at this knowledge surged out of control when she heard Loki’s sudden, cruel laughter and taunting words. “If that is what Sif’s mother hopes for, then she has a right to be worried, as do all the young men in Asgard!”

It was only Thor’s hand on her arm that stilled her as Sif jumped up quickly, her bread knife held menacingly before her and her grip firm. Her blunt, but threatening knife was reaching towards Loki before Thor’s quick reactions stopped her, though Loki’s smirk tempted her to continue forward. The blade would do little harm, but the metal could still be struck against a weak point on the flesh, and Sif was certainly famous for her ingenuity when it came to fighting.

“Be calm, Sif. I am sure Loki means no slander.” Thor’s voice was calm, but there was an underlying power in it, a distant rumble that warned of the warrior within. Sif had heard that voice a number of times and she heeded the warning, leaning back, away from Loki, dropping her arm wielding the knife and relaxing her stance. She also would not give Loki any more satisfaction at seeing her react, his smirk never having faltered despite Sif’s threat.

“I disagree, Thor. It was meant as a slight and it is the second he has struck at me this morn.” She made her stance firm again, holding her head high and glaring at Loki in defiance. “For the sake of my honour, and that of my friends, I should challenge Loki to a fair fight this day.”

Loki stood up then, leisurely taking his time and ignoring the few muttered protests from the Warriors Three, who wanted no part in this battle. His smirk morphed into a cruel smile as he leant towards her, looking down at her tauntingly. Sif held fast; she was not so easily intimidated, though she longed for those few, brief years not so long ago when her height had dwarfed his.

He continued to hold her glare, until he laughed; a rich, warm, sincere sound that annoyingly sounded like music to Sif’s ears. Her heart betrayed her by suddenly missing a beat, though her stance remained firm, her wrath increased and her glare grew in ferocity.

Loki leant back, away from her, watchful for a moment before he spoke, holding his hands out in front of him in pretend surrender. “My dear Lady Sif, how I would love to accept that challenge, for I do fear I have unintentionally slighted your honour and, as such, I must be punished.” His smile flickered briefly into a playful grin, belying the sincerity in his words, before his face dropped into feigned disappointment. “But alas, I am unable to accept, for I have lessons with the scholars this morning and this afternoon…” Here he paused to narrow his eyes at her, a warning in their depths meant only for her. Sif could not help but swallow as she read the clear threat within them, a warning that she was currently in his debt and she should not try his patience. “…I am busy.” With that, Loki gave them all a mocking bow, though his gaze never left Sif’s face, before he turned around, his cloak swirling around him as he walked away.

Sif watched him leave, her anger rising once more with every step he took.

“You must not let him goad you so, Sif,” Thor advised as he laid a friendly hand on her back and encouraged her to resume her place seated at the table. “You know it only encourages him more.”

“Aye, that it does,” Volstagg added, once again tucking into his food, as the drama that had recently occurred had paused even him in his eating.

Fandral nodded in agreement, before observing, “Though Loki seemed more cruel than usual...”

“Perhaps something is troubling him,” Hogun mused, his face as grim and expressionless as ever. He did not elaborate and none of her friends offered any more ideas, simply nodding and resuming their eating, for the mischief of Loki and the subsequent fury of Lady Sif were nothing new.

Sif turned her own attention back to the plate in front of her, though Hogun’s words echoed around in her mind. Perhaps Loki was anxious about something; perhaps he was as worried about his tutelage as she was. The thought helped lessen her simmering resentment towards him, but it did nothing to weaken her own worries and fears. She did her best to force the food in front of her down, her twisted stomach protesting as her thoughts dreaded every moment that passed, for it brought the beginning of her dancing lessons with Loki one moment nearer.

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 _Sorry for the more “angsty” feel to this chapter, it did rather run away with itself. I do aim to keep the story overall light hearted and humorous, but that being said, the potential angst between Loki and Sif is something I enjoy writing, so it will be cropping up again!_

 _Anyway, thanks for reading and I hoped you enjoyed it!_


	4. Chapter 4

Weapons practice finished early that day, far too early for Sif’s liking, though Thor and Fandral looked relieved when it was over, as did Volstagg, who had disappeared immediately in search of food. Hogun was quietly cleaning his sword in the corner of the training ground and Sif began heading towards him, hoping he may agree to another round of combat. He looked up as she approached, muttered some unintelligible excuse and then quickly headed towards the others. They glanced up nervously as they saw Sif approaching them too and quickly turned in the direction Volstagg had taken, calling over their shoulders they were getting some food and would meet her later.

Sif scowled at their rapidly approaching backs. Cowards! They had hardly dared fight with her all day and as soon as the weapons trainer had issued orders for pairs, Sif had found herself with no partner. Usually they were six, but today, the odd number seemed to suit them all bar her. Still, it did mean she was partnered with the trainer, who did not flinch at her heavy blows the way the others did and offered her many compliments and tips for improving her form. Just wait until she had chance to try them out on those great buffoons!

Still, despite her annoyance, she longed to follow them, to join them in the feast they were sure to track down, to laugh at their silly jokes and their coarse manners. Even listening to their jibes about her bad mood would have been a preferable alternative, for now that training was over for the day, Sif knew where she should head, though her feet refused to move. She cursed her own nerves and quickly forced herself to walk forwards, holding her head high as she stomped in the direction of the forest where Loki had agreed to meet.

As she headed down the dirt road that led out of the main citadel, Sif could not help but wonder if this was how real warriors felt, heading out to war. With their stomachs twisted into knots and their hearts heavy with doubts, their breathing laboured and their feet slow and their stride short. Sif had never thought so, for whenever she’d sneaked behind the rocks and walls with the two princes as a child, watching the lines and lines of warriors march into the distance, they’d always seemed so euphoric, so full of pride and honour, of life and energy and optimism. And whenever Sif had faced any foes on the training grounds or on an adventure with her friends, her heart had only pounded with adrenaline, her fingers only clenching to hold her sword and her muscles only impatience to move, to fight. This nervous, heavy anxiety that had so plagued her since yesterday was entirely too new to Sif, and she did not like this apparent weakness one bit. She tried to keep her stride strong to push away the twisting doubts, but it proved as futile as the days fighting had been, and her apprehension only thickened the closer she got to the small clearing within the forest.

Loki was already there when Sif arrived, emerging from the thick trees of the dark forest into the bright light of the open clearing. It had been their haunt since they were children; the two princes and herself coming here to play, jumping into the water when the heady Asgardian summers’ came and skating across the thick ice when it froze in the bitter winters. As they had grown, they had come here less and less, and Sif knew only Loki frequented this place now, far as it was from the palace walls. But just like in their childhood, there Loki was sitting, on the bank by the pool with his feet dangling into the water, a pile of books beside him and one resting open on his lap.

Sif did not bother announcing her presence, for she knew that Loki had cast countless spells around the clearing and the forest, deterring unwelcome visitors and warning of any approach. Sif could remember well the day he had first cast them, the day he had shown them this clearing, his face full of excitement and pride as he had led her and Thor through the dark forest into the bright, dazzling sunlight. The fond memory from their childhood helped lessen her foul temper slightly, at least until Loki continued to ignore her, and her earlier contempt crept back. For she was not some lowly, courtly guest, seeking an audience with the prince and she would be damned if she would give Loki the satisfaction of acting like one. So she continued glaring at him until her impatience got the better of her and she marched forwards. She towered over his seated form, casting a shadow with her arms folded crossly and her stance wide, instinctively preparing for battle. “Are you going to leave me standing here all day, Loki, or are you going to uphold you promise?”

With a heavy sigh, Loki turned another page of the thick volume before him and answered slowly, wearily, “If you will just wait a minute, Sif, I need to finish this chapter.” Ignoring her completely, he reached down for his quill and drew a few black markings on the scroll by his side.

His tone reminded Sif all too much of the voice their old history scholar had used when her and Thor misbehaved. Just like then, the condescension laced within grated on Sif’s nerves and fuelled her rebellious streak, causing her to snap back, “Do not think you can take advantage, Loki. Any time you waste helping me, is time I will waste helping you.”

Loki let out another heavy sigh before he deigned to answer her, his eyes still focused on that darn book, “I am not wasting your time, Sif, this is part of your lesson.”

“And what lesson may this be, Loki?” Sif scoffed back.

“The most important one when it comes to dancing, Lady Sif.” He finally turned towards her then, at last acknowledging her presence, “Patience.”

Sif’s only answer was to glare further, but when Loki turned once more to the book in front of him and began to turn another page, Sif’s lack of patience got the better of her. She kicked out with her foot, aiming for the stupid book that was claiming Loki’s attention and the pool beyond.

Either Loki had pre-empted her movements, or his reactions were far quicker than she remembered, because before her foot could reach the blasted book, Loki’s hand shot out and caught hold of her ankle. He held it firmly in place, but Sif’s momentum carried her forward and, in her surprise, her balance was thrown off kilter. She reached out desperately in shock and grabbed the first steady object she could find, which just happened to be Loki’s shoulder. She managed to stop herself being thrown forwards, but her balance was still quite precarious, with her long frame tilting far too close to the edge of the pool.

“And what is the second lesson, then, Loki?” Sif asked curtly, her voice wavering as she tried to keep steady on one foot as Loki continued to hold the other at an awkward angle.

“Balance,” he announced, his voice a warning Sif did not heed quite fast enough. For a moment later, he suddenly let go of her ankle and moved his shoulder forwards slightly.

It knocked Sif off balance and propelled her forwards. Her feet and arms flailed fruitlessly about in the empty air and this time they found no supportive purchase. And so she continued forwards, tumbling over the bank and falling head first into the ice cold water below. The surprise of her fall, the force of hitting the water and the shock of the cold made Sif yelp, pushing the air from her lungs as she swallowed a mouthful of water. So great was her fall, it propelled her near enough to the very depths of the deep pool and she only just about managed to stop herself hitting the rocks and pebbles lining the base. Instinctively, her arms and legs pushed upwards and she broke the surface a few moments later, spluttering out the icy water as she tried to breathe in the fresh air.

When she looked up, she saw Loki standing now, a few feet away from the edge and a cruel, satisfied smile pulling at his lips. His distance meant Sif could exact no revenge and pull him in, though she did push forwards with her arm, sending a cascading wave of water over the bank. She was rewarded with a moment of smug satisfaction as he jumped back and his smirk slipped. But it was short lived, for the next moment he waved his arms and a protective barrier of green light flashed around him and pushed the water away.

His conceited magic trick further enraged Sif and she glared a few moments longer at the stupid boy before her, treading water to keep her head above the surface. She would have stayed in longer, glowering at Loki until she could think of a sharp retort, but the water was too cold from the melting snow high up on the mountains, which fed the cascading river nearby and then the pool itself. So instead she swam over to the far side of the pool where the bank was lower and hauled herself out of the freezing cold water.

She was dripping wet, cold and her teeth were beginning to chatter, so when she saw Loki’s smirk intensify, her temper got the better of her and she stomped towards him. Loki refused to back up a step and so enraged was Sif at the mocking challenge in his eyes, she suddenly lashed out when she reached him. Kicking out with her foot, she knocked Loki’s legs from under him. He was too surprised to counter in time and he lurched backwards and fell with a hard smack onto the soft grass of the clearing. Before Loki had chance to recover, she followed through on the move. Pulling out the dagger she kept hidden in her boot, she held it against Loki’s neck; her knees astride his waist and her elbow digging into his ribs preventing him from moving. It was no worse than the blows they had dealt each other in the training ground and Sif held no remorse for the flash of pain as Loki’s body connected with the ground and then with her elbow. It was only what he deserved for his foul trick and his earlier taunts at breakfast and she deliberately shook the ice cold water onto him.

Loki did not bother to struggle, he was much too proud and stubborn for that, and instead a smug expression all too quickly replaced the shock at the initial fall. It earned him a greater pressure on the sharp blade against his neck and a look of contempt from Sif, “Stop with these stupid games, Loki.”

“They are not games, Lady Sif, they are valuable lessons for you to learn.” His smirk was poorly masked as he continued, “Ones that will serve you well, both in the ballroom and on the battlefield.”

His obvious slight on her battle prowess earned him a sharper dig in the ribs and she pushed the knife deeper into his neck, almost drawing blood. She smiled as he flinched slightly, his maddening sneer faltering.

She leant closer towards him, letting the water drip from her face and hair and onto his. “And what, pray tell, is the next lesson, Loki?” She knew the question was akin to teasing a snake, taunting it and tempting it to bite. But his conceited attitude was overriding her patience and common sense and giving her a thirsty desire for revenge.

Loki certainly looked like a snake then, a dark mischievous glint to his expression as he regarded her, taunted her. He tilted upwards, pushing against the knife and causing Sif to pull away slightly to prevent piercing his skin. A strange darkness started to fill his eyes, a strange intimacy, a confidence, a _knowing,_ as the mischief within took a different turn. Sif felt herself tremble slightly, something which must surely be just a result of the cold water seeping through into her armour. She could risk no further pressure upon the knife and instead dug her elbow deeper into his ribs in retaliation and something… else, something almost akin to fear.

It had no effect, for Loki continued to lean upwards towards her until their faces were nearly touching, heedless of the sharp dagger against his exposed neck. His eyes held hers in a taunting challenge and Sif refused to back down and pull away from him, though her battle trained senses were screaming at her to do so.

“The next lesson, my dear Lady Sif…” His voice dropped to a whisper, becoming deeper, darker, a distinct edge of danger within, and something… else. Something that made Sif want to fight, or run or… something she could not, would not define. His breath was hot against her cheek now and a shiver ran down her spine, her heart starting to pound in her ears and her senses seemed to coalesce, to focus in on him as if they were in the training rink, weighing each other up and preparing to fight.

Then, the snake bit and Loki’s voice, so low and quiet now, whispered into her ear, “…is submission.” 

Sif bolted upright, coiling from the attack as she jumped firmly to her feet, her stance wide and her arm raised, holding out the dagger and ready for battle. The words… his voice… his closeness… His breath tickling her ear… It snapped something inside of Sif and she felt her pulse racing, her breathing shallow and her body trembling. Her muscles were tense, wanting to act, to do… something. It unnerved her and she cursed her reaction immediately, her weakness. When she saw Loki start to shift below her, his expression now his usual smug, condescending smirk, she found herself instinctively stepping towards him, pushing her foot down hard into his chest so he could not stand. It was as if all the nervous anxiety and irritation that had plagued her since their deal had first been struck was breaking forth and seeking revenge.

She folded her arms and towered over him, her glare filled with all the hatred and rage within her, though her voice was thankfully calm when she spoke, and her hands only trembled slightly as she twirled the dagger around in her fingers. “I grow tired of your games, Loki. Either you cease this trickery or the deal is off.” She cocked her head to one side as a sudden thought occurred to her, “Unless that is your game, Loki, in which case, the erroneous is on you.”

Loki just smiled up at her, his eyes as sharp as the dagger so recently held against his throat, “And you think _that_ is the game I am playing?”

“I do not know what game you play, trickster, and I care not. Nor do I want any part in it.” She pushed down harder with her foot, forcing Loki deeper into the ground. “I am here to learn to dance, that is all.”

Loki shifted beneath her, raising his body mockingly and pushing her momentarily off balance, making her all too aware of how slight this power over him really was, how easy it would be for Loki to throw her off. “It is rather difficult to teach dancing whilst pinned to the floor, my Lady.”

“Then, do you promise to end this trickery and begin fulfilling your end of our bargain?” She eyed him shrewdly, not trusting him one bit.

Holding his arms out in mock surrender, Loki replied sardonically, “Whatever my Lady commands.”

Without dropping her contemptuous glare from his, she begrudgingly pulled her foot away and stepped back, allowing Loki to rise.

“And so, my Lady Sif,” Loki asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm and condescension, “Are you ready to learn how to dance?”

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_I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. I am afraid Sif and Loki still aren't getting on so well... Lets hope that changes soon, otherwise she may not learn to dance in time!_

_Thanks for reading and more chapters are on their way soon._

 


	5. Chapter 5

“That is why I am here, Loki,” Sif answered coldly. It took all of her patience and fortitude as a future warrior of Asgard to not pummel Loki to the ground there and then. Her fingers clenched into fists so tight she felt a sharp pain as they curved around the dagger, nearly drawing blood, her muscles aching with the need to move, to fight. Instead she forced all her anger into her words and her glare. “It is you causing us delay, _trickster_.”

“Delay!” Loki exclaimed in feigned injury, “I merely seek to teach you the basic lessons of dancing.” With a slight murmur of his lips and twist of his wrist, a green light shimmered around him and Sif watched as the splashes of water on his clothing evaporated instantly. “I am not to blame for your own ineptness in such essential skills.”

It was too much, his obvious slight, his complete disregard for her own soaking wet armour and that darn smirk twisting his face. “It is not me who is inept!” Sif cried and then suddenly released the dagger she was holding, throwing it, with all her strength, at the trickster. Despite her annoyance, she could not help a small, triumphant smile as Loki jumped out of its path, the metal flashing in the sunlight a scant few inches from his face. It struck the tree behind him with a satisfying smack and such force that it disappeared to its hilt. Her smile slipped into a mischievous smirk not unlike the trickster’s own when Loki turned towards her, fear momentarily flashing in his deep emerald eyes. He quickly murmured the spell once more and Sif’s annoyance was satiated somewhat when the warmth of Loki’s magic quickly dried her dripping wet skin and clothes.

Sif’s message was loud and clear and Loki bit back the comment that was threatening to trip from his tongue. The dagger had been thrown with a precision beaten only by himself and if he had not jumped out of the way, Loki knew it would have just missed grazing his face and taken a chunk off his hair. But throwing knives was nothing new to them, for who had taught Sif such precision when they were younger? It was the rage of the throw that stilled Loki’s tongue, for he knew all too well that the wrath of Sif was not something to be underestimated. Though it was always amusing to play with. Sif was far too easy to goad, to tease and mock and Loki could never resist the chance to taunt her. He supposed he should find a more challenging target, like Volstagg or Hogun, but he doubted annoying them would be as satisfying. It was far too enjoyable provoking Sif, stoking her ire until it flamed within her eyes with a passionate, beautiful fury. Until it made her stand straighter and turn into the powerful warrior he knew she would one day be; a glorious and fearful sight for any foe on the battlefield. And it was amusingly predictable how Sif would always rise to his challenge, try to match him in his battle of wits or threaten him with a fight. It was like playing with a sharp sword as a child, seeing how far it could be pushed before it cut too deeply, dancing on its sharp edge and trying not to fall. And Loki could not deny that he enjoyed the attention it brought him, for Loki received little of it from anyone unless he was carrying out some mischief.

And this day Loki had discovered an altogether new way to tease Sif, to cause chaos and mischief. He could still remember vividly how she had recoiled at his closeness, how quickly she had fled at his insinuations. He would take offence if he could not also remember how, moments before, she had looked so intently into his eyes, how he had felt her body tremble above him. This was an interesting development to consider, a brand new game to play. One he knew he must not take too far or too much to heart, for everyone knew Sif was destined for his brother. But that he was at risk of being burned himself only made it more thrilling, the sharp sword of possibilities too tempting to ignore. This day though, Loki knew he had pushed Sif too far, the dagger in the tree was evidence enough for that, and they did have so little time. Loki would just have to save this new, tantalizing game for another time. Now, he had to try and teach her to dance.

Still, Loki could not resist bowing mockingly at her and playing just one more trick, and it would help her to dance, maybe. So before Sif had chance to inflict any more fury upon him, he clapped his hands together and all at once the clearing was filled with music.

It was a soft, gentle melody, hauntingly beautiful and conjured from the very air itself. It swept through the trees, rustling the leaves in its rhythm, drawing the very wind into its harmony. Sif found herself straining to listen, to catch the sweep of the harp and the timbre of the flute. Sif felt her earlier anger at the Prince fading away as the music became louder. It poured into her skin and shivered through her veins until her very soul was singing the melody. “It is beautiful,” Sif exclaimed, not caring that she was complimenting him and this powerful, beautiful magic she had never seen from Loki before.

“It is music from the ball,” Loki answered, watching her as she closed her eyes and raised her arms, giving herself over to the music, his music. He did not even think of mocking her for the compliment, instead his voice was almost shy as he continued, watching her, “They always play this song, at the end of every ball.”

“Oh,” Sif answered, opening her eyes and looking at him intently, at the way the smirk had fallen and for a moment, just a moment, he looked almost vulnerable. So this was the music they were to dance to. Sif had not forgotten Loki's strange request, to save this last dance for him. She closed her eyes again and let the music fill her mind. She could not help but imagine dancing to this music, Loki in her arms, his body pressed close to her and a small shiver ran down her spine. Already it seemed to be casting a spell on her and Sif realised that part of it was Loki's magic, bewitching her, but she was too lost in the beautiful music to care. Sif could already feel herself moving to its beat, her arms forming shapes she did not recognise, her feet tracing steps never shown to her before.

Loki watched as Sif began to dance, the magic within the melody casting its spell and pulling her into the dance she did not know, her every move flawless. She was beautiful, striking, and Loki felt the pull of the magic himself, a strange aching to join her. This was a dance meant for two and her arms looked empty, holding onto nothing but air. But Loki remained where he was, for though he loved causing mischief and flirting with danger, he knew that to step forward, to hold Sif in his arms whilst his bewitching melody filled the clearing would be dancing too precariously on the sharp edge of the sword. This was not a game he could risk losing.

And so he watched her for a few moments more, the magic flowing around the forest clearing and catching Sif in its perfect dance. A dance he had tricked her into sharing with him at the ball. He tried to push down a pang of guilt at that thought. For Loki knew that traditionally this was the dance where the lady chooses her final partner from her range of admirers, the one she would take as a husband. Of course, such traditions were merely a formality now, but the implications remained and people would take note of who she chose for this final dance. Most would expect it to be Thor, but Loki did not doubt Sif would have many offers to choose from. None would suspect it to be Loki and the gossip it could unleash around court would be an interesting thing to behold. And Loki could not deny it was in part because he did not want to see Sif with anyone but him for this final dance, not when it was he who had taken the trouble to teach her.

It was a shame his magic was not powerful enough to bewitch Sif for the ball itself, to enchant her feet from across the crowded ballroom so her every step would be faultless. Then there would be no need for these lessons and the formidable task of making Sif dance like a lady. Alas, it was not, Loki knew its limitations and that he would have to teach her from scratch, and soon. Time was of the essence and he had shown off enough already this day. Schooling his expression into the smirk he knew would only infuriate Sif, he clapped his hands and the music suddenly stopped.

The sudden silence made Sif freeze in her movements mid step and she just about managed to catch herself before her now tangled feet tripped her. She spun around to face Loki and glared at him with as much venom as she could summon. She was angry at him for his recent magic trick, for using her to show off his power and putting her under its spell. And perhaps she was a little annoyed at how easy it was for him to do so. “And is that how you intend to teach me?” Sif scoffed, her hand now on her hip, her fingers itching to retrieve the thrown dagger.

“If only, my dear Sif,” Loki answered, his tone mocking and his smirk once again firmly in place. “It would take much more than magic for you to dance so well for a whole ball.”

Sif ignored the obvious slight in his words and instead narrowed her gaze. “Then why do you waste time showing off, Loki! I will not forget this when it is my turn to honour our bargain.”

Loki sighed with exasperation, holding his arms out before him as if speaking to a child and said slowly, “I do not waste time Sif, I merely aimed to show you an example of a dance.”

Sif did her best to swallow her resurging annoyance by calculating how many steps it would take to retrieve her thrown dagger and what next she could do to threaten him. She had risen to his goading far too much this day and she was determined to not give him the satisfaction of seeing her react so again. It was hard though, very hard, and her glare was as sharp and dangerous as the dagger so recently thrown. “Then let us begin our lessons before the ball is upon us!”

“Quite,” Loki replied, “for we do not have much time and I fear the first lesson will take a while for you to achieve.”

Sif crossed her arms in annoyance at his slight, “And what is this first lesson, _Loki_.”

“Patience, Lady Sif, have you forgotten already?” Loki sighed and looked at her wearily for a moment, the perfect deception of a tutor exasperated with his pupil. “Not one of your virtues I am afraid.”

“I can be patient!” Sif snapped, starting to walk towards him angrily, before stopping herself when she realised her mistake.

“Then prove it,” Loki challenged, his green eyes shining with mischief.

With her hands on her hips, Sif glared petulantly back, “How?”

“Well, let us start by seeing if you can remain still… and _silent_ ,” he added, when Sif started to interrupt, “for longer than a few seconds.”

“Simple!” Sif exclaimed, and then made a point of folding her arms, standing up straighter and glaring at him as ferociously as she could. Plotting what she would do to him when she retrieved that dagger helped occupy her thoughts for a few moments, until she caught Loki’s smug expression.

“And what do you think you are doing?” Sif accused as he began to walk back towards where his books still stood by the pool edge.

“Teaching you patience, my dear Sif,” Loki replied with false puzzlement. He began to pick up a few books and flicked through his study notes, seemingly ignoring her.

“I am no fool, Loki Odinson!” Sif retorted. “If you are to teach me, you must set the example and do the same yourself!”

Loki’s exasperated sigh was nearly enough to snap Sif’s tolerance entirely, but she dug her heels into the ground and clenched her fists again. She held Loki’s gaze in a fierce, defiant glare until he eventually put down his books.

“As you wish, my Lady.” He bowed condescendingly at her title and came to stand opposite her, keeping a respectable distance between them and his posture infuriatingly relaxed.

Then, with a smirk and looking firmly into her eyes, their silent challenge began.

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_Thanks for reading and I do hope you’re still enjoying reading the story. It’s certainly fun to write a petulant Sif and a scheming Loki! Just what I imagine them to be like as teens. I’m sorry for the delay in posting this chapter and thanks for sticking with it. I definitely plan on getting the next chapter written much sooner. I’d love to know what you think, especially as I’m a bit worried about this chapter and the different mood tones and more descriptive writing style._


	6. Chapter 6

It was far from a fair competition. Sif was training to be a warrior! She was used to movement, to the clash and clatter of steel on sword. Loki spent far too long in the quiet of the library, sitting still with his eyes pouring over the words in his stupid books. And it was even harder to stand still and remain quiet with Loki watching her, his smirk widening with every tap of her foot and twisting of her hands; her own scowl deepening and her glare growing in ferocity. So it was not many minutes before Sif suddenly crossed her arms and exclaimed, “Why do I need to learn to be patient anyway! I thought dancing was all about moving, not standing still!”

The sigh that escaped Loki’s lips would have been enough to make Sif throw the dagger at him once more, if it was not still impaled in the tree. It was perhaps a good job it was, for this time Sif may not have deliberately missed.

“Do you not know anything about dancing, Sif?”

“I know enough,” Sif answered angrily.

“Clearly!” The sarcasm in his tone made Sif gnash her teeth at him, but all it earned her was another exaggerated sigh from Loki. “There is much standing around being still and waiting in dances, Sif. Especially the set dances. Everyone will be watching and it would not do for a lady to be fidgeting around and standing impatiently.”

“Set dances?” Sif asked, too confused to care about appearing ignorant then. In that moment, she sincerely wished she had taken more of an interest in these things when she was younger, when the other girls had whispered and giggled about them as they skipped along the palace corridors. But she had not cared about such frivolous things then, had never bothered following when they sneaked onto the balcony high above the ball room. Last year she had been tempted, it was Loki’s first ball after all and she had planned on spying on him and making note of all his mistakes to tease him with later. But seeing from afar that cow Sigyn prancing around in her ugly pink dress before the ball, sickeningly merry to be soon attending her own first ball and dancing with the princes, had rather changed Sif’s mind. If only now she had sneaked onto the balcony with the other girls, she would not only have an idea what the dances themselves entailed, but she would have lots of ammunition to use against Loki now.

At least Loki did not answer with another sigh, though his eyes did narrow at her in vexation. “You do know about the set dances?”

“Of course!” Sif snapped indignantly, hand on hip and expression angry at her own woefully inadequate knowledge, and at Loki for making it all so apparent.

Even if he were not a trickster by nature, Loki would never have been fooled by Sif's proclamation and, given her current mood, he deemed it better to just explain. “They are the dances that begin the ball. After you have been formally introduced to the King and Queen, you will be expected to line up with the other debutantes and dance the first set piece together.”

“Did you have to do all this, Loki?” Sif interrupted, finding herself strangely interested in Loki’s own first ball, though she was already finding all this etiquette and formality quite perplexing.

“Yes I did, as did Thor the year before me,” Loki answered quickly. He did not want to linger too long on the memories of his own coming out ball and being formally presented to his own mother and father. It had all been quite embarrassing and awkward, especially with Thor grinning like the idiot he was beside them. Still, such were the rules and routines of Asgard that even the princes could not escape them, no matter how much they had protested. So he quickly continued with his explanation before Sif’s sudden curiosity prompted her to ask more, potentially embarrassing questions. “The first set dance only comprises of this year’s debutantes and you will switch partners often. The whole court will be watching intently, so it is extremely important you make not a single mistake.

Sif gulped and nodded nervously at the sudden gravity in Loki’s tone. Already her mind was filled with visions of tripping over and standing on the toes of the men she would be expected to dance with, the surrounding court mocking and laughing at her exploits and her mother scowling, her face red with fury. It filled her with more trepidation than any fight on the training grounds ever had and Sif shifted awkwardly from one foot to another. This blasted ball was growing worse by the minute. The sudden idea of feigning sickness flickered through her mind, but Sif quickly quashed it. Except for that frightful cold when she was much younger, Sif had never been weak enough to be sick in her life, and the coincidence of it coinciding with the ball would not be lost on her mother, or anyone else for that matter. She was sure she could enlist the princes help, but even then, Sif feared the chatter around the court; for if she was deemed too weak and afraid to attend a mere ball, how could she ever except to become a great warrior of Asgard. So Sif did her best to push her anxieties away and tried to focus on Loki’s words.

Mercifully, he seemed to have had enough of taunting her for now, for his eyes only narrowed further at her obvious agitation. “Thankfully for us, Sif, the first dance is always the same, so I should be able to teach you that dance tolerably well at least. But…” Loki quickly added when he saw her relax and breathe a small sigh of relief, “There are many set dances they can choose after, Sif, when everyone is allowed to join. So I am afraid I will have to try and teach you them all.”

Sif had paled rather at Loki’s words, but she managed to ask, her voice stronger than she felt, “And what happens after the set dances?”

“Well, then we have the feast, and afterwards there will be more dancing, though these at least will be partnered dances as opposed to one big group. Of course,” Loki quickly cautioned, “you will still be watched very carefully.”

Sif gave a small nod of despair as the burden of learning all these dances started filling her soul with lead. But she quickly steeled herself once more. For was she not training to be the greatest warrior Asgard had ever seen? Learning routines was what she did every day on the training ground and, if she could fearlessly face battle, then a silly dance should not defeat her, surely. “Then we do not have much time, Loki.” Sif answered, pleased her voice sounded as strong as the determination now running through her veins.

But conquering her first lesson was not easy. Too quickly did Sif find her foot tapping of its own accord, her fingers starting to twitch against her sides and her expression darkening into a scowl. She was itching to move, to speak and after only a few minutes of silence did she cry out in exasperation. “This is pointless Loki! You are teaching me nothing!” Sif put her hand on her hip and glared ferociously at him, “You are such a terrible teacher!”

“Excuse me, Lady Sif,” Loki answered in irritation, “it is not _my_ fault you have even less patience than Thor!” He tried to hide his hurt at her insult by continuing cruelly, “What sort of warrior are you ever going to be if you cannot even stand still for more than two minutes!”

His insult hit its mark and Sif was close to shouting at him in anger. “That is different! I am going to be a great warrior, you will see!”

“Really Sif?” Loki looked at her cynically. “And precisely how is it different?”

“Because this is just some stupid dance, not a great battle where the future of Asgard is at stake!”

Loki was about to retort, before an idea suddenly struck him. He ignored Sif’s angry glower burning into him as he quickly spun the idea around in his mind, flicking through the possibilities and the potential outcomes. “What if it was a great battle, Sif? If there was no difference?”

“What!” Sif threw back, her fingers clenching in her frustration and her face growing more scarlet with anger by the second. How dare he insult her ability as a warrior! That dagger still embedded in the tree was looking very enticing right now.

Loki ignored the venom in her words and continued on, his voice growing in volume, eager as the idea took hold, “Pretend this _is_ a great battle, not just a dance. That the people you are dancing with are Asgard’s greatest enemies. That this _is_ a matter of life and death!”

“Do not mock me, Loki!” Sif scoffed at his idea, thinking this a new way to taunt her.

“Indeed I am not.” Loki answered, before he continued earnestly, “Just close your eyes for a moment, Sif.” When he saw her scowl, he quickly added, “I promise this is no trick!”

Sif’s answer was to scowl deeper, for she knew Loki’s word was about as trustworthy as Volstagg in a room full of food. Still, his voice sounded sincere, and the usual smirk was absent from his earnest expression, his eyes filled with excitement not mischief. With a loud, exaggerated sigh and a theatrical roll of her eyes, Sif decided to play along for now. She did, after all, still very much need to learn to dance. So she closed her eyes and listened to the Prince as he continued to speak.

“Now, imagine you are not here, but in a dark, dangerous land, like Jotunheim.”

Sif deepened her scowl, but she kept her eyes tightly shut, trying to imagine that sinister, forbidden realm and not the far more pleasing image of smashing her fist into Loki’s face.

“It is cold, bitterly icy cold, the wind whipping through your armour and chilling you to the bone. But you cannot move, not even a little to keep warm. For you are watching your enemies, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.”

Against Sif’s better judgement, the images started to filter through into her thoughts, Loki’s eager voice painting a vivid picture in her mind. She was on Jotunheim, her and her friends, suited in armour and gripping their weapons tightly, bracing themselves against the wind and perhaps perching behind some rocks just outside their enemy’s base.

“It is dark, almost too dark to see, but you know you cannot move. You know that if you move even an inch, the Frost Giants will see you and attack. And then, the battle will be lost.”

The picture was even clearer now, the enemy guarding the gates as she watched, waiting for them to become distracted so she could run forwards and attack. She felt the cold sink into her bones, but she refused to move, to give her position away to the enemy. She could feel the hunger for battle starting to simmer underneath her skin, felt her muscles tighten, pulled taut and ready to strike. Her feet immobile, ready to run and her fingers loose around her imaginary blade, ready to hurl it towards her enemies.

So lost was Sif in the fantasy, she jumped up, startled, when she suddenly heard Loki clap. “You see!” He cried triumphantly, deftly moving out of her way as she reflexively brought her arm wielding the imaginary sword around towards him. “You can do it!”

“I can?” Sif asked surprised, feeling disorientated as she took in her real surroundings. Not the bleak, harsh rock of Jotunheim, but the soft grass of Asgard, with its warm sunshine and gentle breeze.

Loki nodded eagerly, his grin wide at his success.

“You did not use any magic?” Sif asked warily, narrowing her eyes at the trickster.

Loki shook his head viciously, “No, you stayed still for over five minutes all on your own!”

“Five minutes?” Loki’s enthusiasm was catching, but Sif was trying hard to not get swept away by it, cautious of her own ability.

“Indeed, Lady Sif!” Loki’s grin fell a little as he continued, “Of course, it would be impractical to imagine yourself in such a situation during the dance itself.” A sudden smirk flickered across his lips, “We do not want you actually attacking any of the other dancers, after all.” At Sif’s icy glare, Loki’s lips once more turned up into an enthusiastic grin. “But this just proves that you can do it, Sif. You just need to remember that it is not just a dance, but a very important battle and you will be fine.”

Sif was less than convinced, but Loki seemed so positive, so pleased with himself, that Sif did not want to contradict him. Rarely did the trickster look so jubilant, especially as no mischief had been wrought. And Sif was anxious to move on anyway, she hardly wanted to spend her entire afternoon having to be still and silent. That irony was not lost on her, but she forced her hands to stay still at her sides and her face to stop scowling. Though she did not quite manage to keep the scepticism out of her voice as she asked, “Well then, if I have mastered the first lesson, what next, Loki?”

Loki’s eyes narrowed at her scornful tone and he answered tersely, “I would not say you have mastered anything yet, Lady Sif. But…” Loki was far too pleased with himself and his success to stay irritated for long, “As it is a skill that will improve the more I teach you, I think we are safe to move onto the next lesson.” Here Loki paused, deliberately widening his smirk, his eyes flashing with mischief, “And, in case you have forgotten, Lady Sif, that next lesson is, of course, balance.”

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_So, massive apologies again for the delay in writing this chapter, real life and writer’s block rather got in the way. I’m hoping to get the next chapter written and posted soon though._

_Thanks so much for still sticking with the story. I hope you’re still enjoying reading and, as ever, I’d definitely love to know what you think – good or bad!_

 


	7. Chapter 7

Just as Loki had intended, Sif’s scowl deepened and she folded her arms in annoyance. She remembered all to well how Loki had knocked her off balance and into the icy cold water of the pool. That had been a mean trick and absolutely no reflection on Sif’s balancing ability at all. She had excellent balance and proceeded to show him just that. She held her arms out at right angles and quickly raised her left leg, only wobbling slightly. Rather than being impressed with her efforts though, Sif suddenly heard Loki’s loud, boisterous laughter filling the clearing. She whipped her head around to glare at him, but the glare rather lost its potency when Sif tilted precariously forwards, her arms spinning circles in the air to keep herself upright.

The trickster’s laughter only increased, his eyes beginning to water and his hands clutching at his stomach as he fought to control his choking laughs.

Well I hope he does choke, Sif thought angrily as she scowled at him, her face red with a combination of anger and embarrassment. She quickly brought both legs safely to the ground and placed her hands firmly on her hips.

“You look about as graceful as a troll on ice stakes!” Loki managed to gasp out between his fits of laughter.

“Have you ever seen a troll on ice skates?” Sif answered back, her voice dripping with scorn and derision to hide her humiliation.

“I have now!” Loki looked at her red face and angry stance and was unable to stop himself from laughing again. The image of Sif trying to balance on one leg, her body swaying terribly, her face screwed up in concentration and her arms shaking in effort would be forever imprinted on his memory!

It seemed Sif's new lessons in patience were short lived, for against her better judgement, she found herself snapping out, “Shut up, Loki!”

“I am sorry, Sif. Truly I am.” Loki held up his hand in apology and did his best to swallow his laughter whilst he choked out, “It is just that you were…” He cut off as another eruption of laughter spilled from his lips.

Sif was used to this sort of behaviour from her friends, indeed once Thor, Fandral and Volstagg began to laugh so only a sharp word from Odin or their weapons master could usually quieten them. But rarely did Loki join his friends in their mirth, instead usually watching from the sidelines with a smirk on his face, or a triumphant smile if he was the cause of such laughter. The fact that Loki’s out of character merriment was at her expense was enough to snap the last of Sif’s newly learnt patience and she marched towards him.

Loki showed little concern for the fury on her face and his laughter only stopped when Sif grabbed hold of the neck of his tunic and dragged him backwards towards the trees. His back banged hard against a nearby trunk and Sif pushed her arm against his throat in a strangling hold. In truth, it was the collision with the tree that had halted Loki’s laughter and when Sif saw the smile still pulling at his lips, she pushed him back once more against the tree. Its great boughs shook with the impact, but Sif felt no remorse; she had dealt worst blows on the training ground and Loki more than deserved it for his behaviour today. Indeed, his continual smirk only incensed her further and, noticing she had chosen the tree quite well, she reached for the dagger embedded within it.

She pulled hard, but the dagger did not yield. Sif cursed her own, hard throw which had buried it so deep and tried again. Still it did not move and Sif knew she would need both hands to pull it forth, but that would mean releasing her strangling grip on Loki. He realised this as soon as she did and his smirk only broadened further.

What little control Sif still possessed was gone in that instant. With all her rage and strength, she drew her fist back and threw it at Loki’s face. He would deserve his broken nose now!

Sif, however, had forgotten just how good Loki’s reflexes were, or perhaps she had been too predictable, for Loki seized her fist and halted the punch a scant few inches from his face.

“Do not dare, Sif.” Loki growled, his face hard and threatening now, any hint of laughter gone from his eyes. He glared at Sif and Sif glared back, a silent battle of supremacy raging between them. Loki’s grip tightened on her hand, almost to the point of pain. Sif knew Loki was more than capable in a fight and well matched against her. He was also a Prince of Asgard and bruised ribs and broken bones on the training ground were one thing, and quite another when they were seemingly unprovoked. Sif had no doubt Loki would claim so to his parent if he came back with his nose dripping red.

And Sif was starting to feel distinctly uncomfortable this close to Loki. Her body felt strange pressed against his, warm and tingling, and her heart was beating too erratically. His breath on her neck felt strangely… pleasant and her thoughts were starting to become disjointed, disorientated… The anger that had been running through her veins felt different now, unfamiliar though no less potent. She felt herself start to be pulled forwards, her head moving closer to his as if she were caught by Loki’s eyes. They were darkening in intensity as the battle between them began to change, taking on a very different nature. One she could not understand, but which unsettled her greatly.

Sif quickly pushed him back against the tree once more, just for good measure, before retreating, stepping away from him and back into the open safety and bright sunshine of the clearing. She felt unnerved and vulnerable and she did not like the feelings in the least. It felt too much like prey escaping from a predator’s clutches and she crossed her arms protectively across her chest.

“Then do not dare mock me so, Loki Liartongue!” Sif retorted, trying to keep her voice stern and fierce, though it came out more defensively than she intended. She glared at him again, falling into old habits and was oddly relieved when the dark, intense look left Loki’s eyes and his lips fell once more into their perpetual smirk.

“But you make it so easy to do, my Lady.” He straightened his tunic and reached for the dagger, which slipped easily from the tree and into his grasp. Sif’s glare intensified and her hands clenched tightly over her arms as he slipped it safely into his belt and stepped towards her, his expression infuriatingly smug. “And if you dance like that at the ball, I shall not be the only one laughing so!”

“Well, I still do not know what I did wrong!” Sif snapped back, falling easily into the usual animosity that existed between them. It felt strangely safe, reassuring and Sif quickly pushed the feelings away and let her annoyance at Loki override them. “I am training to be a Warrior of Asgard, Loki. I have excellent balance.”

Loki’s smile broadened, but at least he kept his laughter in check as he replied, “If all the warriors in Asgard are as good at balancing as that, then I fear what is to become of us all should war ever descend upon us!”

“If you are so good at it, then why do you not show me how it is done, Loki Liartongue?”

“My pleasure, Lady Sif.” Loki gave her a mocking bow before lifting one foot gracefully of the ground. He raised his foot high, his leg perfectly straight, and brought his arms up, his hands meeting in an elegant triangle above his head and his face remaining perfectly calm and serene. Not one wobble or tremble marred the movement and Sif found herself watching quite enviously. Any other time Sif would have mocked the second prince, for his unnatural grace and poise were not becoming for a warrior of Asgard, but Sif was far too envious to think of criticisms or cutting remarks then. Instead she just glowered at him and snapped petulantly, “Well, that is exactly what I did!”

Loki just rolled his eyes and brought his foot down in one perfect, fluid movement. “I can balance, Sif. You, however, have all the grace and balance of Thor when he has drunk too much of my mother’s fine mead!”

“Well, you never said anything about grace, Loki! I thought you were teaching me balance!”

Loki sighed in exasperation at the ineptness of his pupil. He had known teaching Sif would be no easy task, but he had not realised she would prove so completely useless. “Grace and balance go hand in hand, Sif. In order to succeed at dancing, you must have elegance and poise and for those, you must have superior balance.”

“Then you had better hurry up and teach me, Loki!”

“I am trying, my Lady, but it is not easy when you keep having such temper tantrums!”

If it was a test of her patience and control, Sif just about managed to pass, only clenching her fists tighter and hardening her scowl at the Prince’s comment. “And if you stopped with your stupid, childish games, we could have progressed much further by now!”

Loki rolled his eyes at that, but deemed it safer to hold his tongue. Instead he tilted his head to one side and examined his pupil in what he knew would be an infuriating manner. It seemed his pupil was at least learning something, for she kept her mouth shut as he appraised her, though the glare never left her face. Sif really was too easy to tease though, and Loki never had been able to resist goading her. He watched her for a few moments more, long enough to ensure she was sufficiently annoyed before he asked, “Then shall we continue, my Lady?”

Sif’s answer was another icy glare and Loki did his best to hide his smirk, keeping his face straight and serious as he issued his first instruction. “Firstly then Sif, I need you to try and stand up straight.”

“I am standing up straight!” Sif retorted, hands on her hips and scowl firmly in place.

“I said straight, Sif. Not lounging about like the guards when they have one drink too many.”

A retort was on her tongue, but Sif managed to hold it back, Loki’s last criticism of her patience still fresh in her mind. Instead, with her glare growing even fiercer, Sif reluctantly complied, straightening her back and dropping her hands to her side. Given Loki’s loud exasperated sigh, it must not have been sufficient.

Loki considered her for a few moments before circling her slowly. Her back was slouched forwards, her shoulders drooping in a most unladylike fashion and her arms were held out awkwardly. “Try raising your head, Sif.”

She obeyed grudgingly, but it made little difference. With the scowl etched upon her features and her body so fierce and stiff, she looked more like a warrior about to march into battle than an elegant lady at a dance.

He stopped behind Sif and she did her best to resist the urge to turn her head and glower at him further. It unnerved her, having the notorious trickster out of sight at her back, but she did not want to give him the satisfaction of showing any unease.

Suddenly though, Loki’s hands reached out towards her, one on her waist and one on her shoulder, pulling her upper body backwards and upwards. The touch surprised her and she jumped forwards quickly, away from Loki.

“What do you think you are doing?” Sif asked, trying to keep her voice stern and scornful, which was surprisingly difficult as her heart had suddenly quickened in pace and it took her a moment to catch her breath. What sort of warrior was she, Sif thought to herself in annoyance, if she could be surprised and caught off guard so easily? It did not help that she could still feel the trace of Loki’s fingertips on her, their impression cool and prickling strangely.

“I am trying to help you to stand gracefully, Sif. Now stay still!”

His reprimanding voice grated on Sif’s patience, but she complied and forced herself to remain motionless when Loki’s hands once more reached for her. She was not so surprised this time, but she still had to resist the strange impulse to step away, to retreat, though from what she could not say. She gritted her teeth and set her eyes fierce as Loki circled back around to face her.

His appraising eyes seemed to heed not the venom in her own and he frostily answered her silent glare. “Well, that is marginally better, I suppose. Maybe if…” He stepped towards her then and reached for her neck, his cool fingertips gently tipping her head upwards. It brought their eyes level and Sif felt a strange shiver run down her spin. She fought down the same urge to retreat and instead eyed him coldly, ignoring the strange, cool burning of his fingertips on her skin.

This time, Loki was the one to quickly step away, taking two long strides backwards and looking at Sif from a safe distance. Loki did not like the way his own fingertips burned from where he had touched her and the tense, almost charged atmosphere around them was unsettling. There was only so much one could play with fire before they got too badly burned and Loki quickly pushed such thoughts away, “Well, I suppose that will have to do.” He considered her a few moments more before continuing, “Now, I want you to keep your back straight and your head high and step towards me.”

Sif did as she was asked, though not without a glower at her teacher, and was quite annoyed when he stopped her after just one step.

“No Sif!” Loki cried in frustration, “I said keep your back straight! You must not slouch forwards.”

“I do not slouch!” Sif snapped back, but she duly repeated the motion and stepped towards him again. She really did try to keep her back straight and head high, but it felt too stiff, too awkward and it was too easy to fall into her usual stance.

“Great Yggdrasil, Sif! Is it so hard to keep straight?” It was not often that Loki lost his patience and that he did now merely added to his own frustration. He had known it would be difficult to teach Sif, but this was beyond impossible! He turned away from Sif and stomped towards the pool, not wanting her to see him so annoyed. There must be some way around Sif’s complete ineptness! As that thought came to him, Loki suddenly caught sight of his books sitting neatly by the pool’s edge. Loki’s scowl quickly turned into a smirk and he delayed not a moment more, quickly stepping forwards and grabbing the heavy book that sat on top of the pile. He turned back towards her as if this had been his plan all along.

Sif eyed the book in Loki’s hand warily; hand now firmly on hip and her back deliberately slouched. “And what do you intend to do with that?” Sif asked scornfully, “Read me into the perfect posture!”

A glitter of mischief flashed in second Prince’s eyes and Sif instinctively put herself on guard.

“Patience Sif,” Loki smirked, “or do I need to cover that lesson again?”

The icy glare was answer enough and Loki continued merrily, “Now Sif, stand up straight again.”

She deepened her scowl, but obeyed. She did not want Loki to try to help her; she felt disconcerted enough when Loki circled her again, standing behind her with his blasted book so Sif could not see what he was doing.

“Worry not, Lady Sif. I think you may even enjoy this particular lesson.”

Before she had chance to think of a scathing reply, she felt something very heavy and large be placed upon her head. She whipped her head around in surprise and felt the heavy object start to tip precariously. Reaching up with both hands to steady the item she felt the hard, unrelenting binding of a book. The giver himself appeared a moment later, flashing Sif an infuriatingly triumphant smirk. She was tempted to throw the heavy book at him, but managed to resist the impulse, for she knew how much Loki would delight in seeing her so annoyed again. Instead she just glared at him more venomously and clutched the book tighter. She was quick to catch onto Loki’s new game and once the book felt adequately balanced, she gingerly mover her hands away. When it started to wobble, she quickly caught hold and steadied it.

“You need to stand up straight, Sif. Hold your head up high.” Loki’s voice was serious, instructive, but even he was having difficulty hiding his grin.

Sif tried again and this time, with her head up straight, she managed to move her hands away for several moments. After a few attempts at keeping her posture as straight as possible, she finally managed to move her hands out sideways and far away from the book.

Her scowl had gone now and she could not help grinning as the book remained perched on her head. “I did it!” Sif grinned and in her exuberance, she waved her arms about slightly and the book began to wobble again. Sif started to reach up her hands, but she stopped herself. She could do this. Concentrating hard, she forced her body to remain perfectly still and straight and, after tipping slightly, the book stopped moving.

“Excellent, Sif. Now I need you to move towards me and…” Loki’s voice was cut off as the book suddenly fell to the ground with a loud crash. In her eagerness, Sif had stepped forwards too quickly and had been unable to keep her head upright. Loki cringed inwardly, but managed to hold his tongue. Hopefully any damage done to the ancient volume could be fixed and, if not, he would just have to sneak it back into the library as carefully as he had sneaked it out.

Trying to hide her face, which was rapidly growing red with embarrassment, she quickly bent down to retrieve the fallen book. She was disappointed in herself and her own eagerness, for she had shown herself up once again to the trickster. More cautiously this time, Sif placed the book once more on her head and waited for it to become balanced. Then, slowly, she stepped towards Loki. With the book on her head, it made her more conscious of her posture and it was easier to keep her back and head straight. Her grin had returned once she had reached Loki, who had been stepping backwards until he had reached the edge of the pool. In fact, so pleased was she with herself, she did not even try to think of a way to accidentally push him into the icy water.

The expression turned to one of confusion a moment later as Loki wordlessly took the dagger from his belt and started twirling it around in his fingers. He watched until Sif’s confused look began to turn to one of annoyance before he deigned to explain, “That is all very good, Sif. But now I want you to fight me.”

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_Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I am sorry it was so long in coming, but I will definitely be posting the next chapter sooner this time!_

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

“Fight you?” Sif repeated, thoroughly confused now. Usually an invitation like this from Loki would have her pouncing to attack him, but she was wary this time. What game was Loki playing now? He tossed her the dagger and Sif it caught it deftly in her hand, though the book did lurch forwards slightly.

“Yes Sif. Fight me.”

Sif cocked her head as much as the heavy volume would allow and regarded him shrewdly.

Loki smiled as he continued, “And I promise I will tell all it was a fair fight, initiated by me,”

Though Sif knew Loki’s promises were as worthless as rusty armour, the offer was too tempting for Sif to resist. Her anger at the second Prince may have been placated slightly by her recent success, but he still had plenty of past grievances to account for. She would make him pay for his actions this day and there was no weapons master present to call foul now. She lurched towards him, the heavy volume slipping from her head and striking the hard ground with a loud crash. She paid it no heed, too consumed with calculating the precise angle of attack to send Loki into his pile of blasted books and tumbling into the freezing water below.

Loki, though, had already anticipated her attack and calmly stepped away, moving around her so it was now she who was standing on the edge of the pool. She immediately fell into her battle stance, bracing herself for an attack from Loki. But one never came. Instead he just watched her with his infuriating smirk and a playful mischief in his eyes.

“Now, now Sif. You attack before we have reached an arrangement.”  He shook his head in feigned disappointment, “That is not very honourable of you, is it Sif?”

Sif glared, but she knew better than to attack again. “And what _arrangement_ do you have in mind, trickster?”

“There is but one condition, Lady Sif.” Loki answered, “You must only fight when you have the book balanced, without assistance, on your head.” He looked pointedly down at the book lying open on the ground, its pages turning in the gentle breeze.

Sif’s eyes were pure poison as she glowered at Loki. She should have known he would have a cruel trick in mind. She was definitely tempted to throw the book at him now, or better yet, the dagger and this time her aim would not only be for show. She clenched her fingers around its hilt, started to raise it high, but Loki merely tracked its movements mockingly, unconcerned and vaguely amused by her efforts. It forced her arm still and instead she stepped towards the book, kicking it with it her foot and banging it shut. “That is far from a fair fight, trickster!”

“Are you sure, my Lady? You hold the dagger and I am without a weapon.” He held his arms out towards her, as if to prove they were empty. “And I promise to only defend, not attack.” 

Crossing her arms in irritation, Sif strengthened her glare at the trickster, but there was little else she could do. To not accept this new game of Loki’s was tantamount to admitting defeat and giving up entirely on this disastrous idea of dancing lessons. And that she could not do, her pride was too strong to give up now. Beside, it was still a chance to fight Loki and seek revenge. So it was with a smirk of her own that Sif reached down and retrieved the book. It was easier this time to balance it properly and Sif looked at Loki with a challenging grin.

He smiled back and held his arms out in invitation, waiting for Sif to move.

She paused a moment, hoping to catch Loki off guard before she lunged at him, the dagger held high and ready to strike. But as she rushed forwards, she tipped her head and the book fell to the ground.

Loki stepped out of her way, circling around her and the book and smiling triumphantly. “Dear me, Sif. That is not a very good start.”

“You say that at such a safe distance, Loki. It merely makes you seem weak.”

“Then show me otherwise, Sif. Prove to me you have the makings of a warrior.”

His words struck a chord with Sif and she tried again, but her first few attempts proved just as disastrous and her smirk soon fell into another scowl. As she lunged for him, the book would always hit the floor with a crash that echoed around the clearing and a painful reminder that she had failed again. Her frustration was not helped by Loki’s growing smile and occasional laughs as the book fell once more or tipped precariously forwards and Sif lost her own balance in trying to maintain that of the book. Sif knew her movements would be praised on the training ground, her kicks sharp and fierce, her speed and strength capable of defeating any normal foe. But Loki had never been any ordinary adversary on the training ground, his skills never lying in the usual strength and force, but in strategy and evasion. And so he was in his element here, easily dodging her attacks and tricking her movements so her posture would collapse and the book would fall.

Loki kept to his side of the bargain well, never attacking, but that she could still not beat him was devastating to her pride. Whenever the book would fall, Loki would step away and look at her in playful exasperation, his arms held out mockingly as he waited for her to retrieve the fallen book. Sometimes Sif would continue to attack and Loki would dodge expertly out of her way, smirking at her or releasing a scathing and patronising comment. “Now, now Sif.” He shook his finger at her, “That is not very fair. Trying to attack me with a dagger whilst I am unarmed.”

Whether Loki intended it or not, and Sif would bet very strongly on the former, Loki’s arrogant attitude only served to increase her frustration and rage, until her blows became almost vicious in their ferocity. But still Loki would step aside, laughing at her and scolding her lack of balance and prowess once more. Whilst her frustration drove her determination and spurned her actions, it also clouded her judgement. Her attacks grew more and more desperate and Loki’s laughter rang ever louder around the clearing. “And you hope to join the very best of my father’s warriors and protect this realm? You are not even capable of defeating an unarmed man!”

“I will make you pay for your scorn, Loki Liartongue!” Sif charged at him once more and again the heavy book struck the ground with a deafening crash.

When the book fell this time on her foot, the sharp pain brought her to her senses. If she truly wanted to beat Loki, she would have to play the game his way, and that would mean being cautious and making sure the book fell no more. She was a fast learner on the training ground, so why was it so different here? She forced all her frustration and anger at the second prince down and instead focused on keeping the book balanced.

Sif tried a few experimental moves then, raising her leg slowly in a small kick or stepping forwards with her arms out, wielding the dagger. The book wobbled dangerously, but Sif was growing accustomed to its weight now. She pulled her back straight and kept her head held high, balancing the book. It still took Sif many attempts to move properly with such a heavy volume perched on her head, but she focused her frustration into concentration now. No longer did she see the book as a hindrance, but a new weapon to wield, an extension of herself like the dagger she held so confidently in her hand. She let it push her into new movements, new tricks and methods she had never been made to consider before, new ways to conquer her enemy.

And her enemy watched on, silent now as he considered her. Her attacks were still easy to evade and he had plenty of opportunities to appraise the growing agility of his pupil. His slights and cruel comments were hitting their mark well, increasing her fury as he intended until she was forced to play his game. And as Sif grew more confident in her movements, Loki had to try harder to keep the admiration from his eyes, to hide his genuine smile at her growing success. Now that she was being more cautious in her movements, more patience in her attacks, Loki could see her balance improving greatly. Her back was now held far straighter than it had ever been, her head held proud and strong. She began to move now with grace and fluidity, rather than brute strength and anger. No longer did her movements seem like that of a warrior, but of dancer spinning around elegantly in strange, mesmerising movements.

This was the Sif he would watch with wonder on the training ground, the Sif who would rise to any challenge and usually succeed. The Sif who would stare down any opposition and any who dared to challenge the notion of a female warrior until they flinched, so sure was she in her future as a warrior of Asgard. This was the Sif who Loki knew would always be just out of his reach, watched only from afar and always destined for his brother… But this was also the Sif who Loki knew would enchant all on the dance floor, if only he could find a way to make her as confident there as she was in a fight.

Already Loki was planning ahead to future lessons, future ways to use Sif’s skill and instinct for war in the art of dancing. He continued to easily evade her attacks, but his concentration was becoming diverted now, his thoughts distracted. He still watched her, but less carefully, failing to notice just how far Sif’s confidence and surety in her movements had grown.

Sif’s concentration, however, only grew, focusing on her enemy and how to conquer him. She could tell the moment he became distracted. It was a simple, barely discernable shift in his behaviour. But Sif had been trained in reading her enemy and she knew Loki well. Knew when the distracted look flickered across his eyes that his mind was becoming consumed with plots and plans and new games to play. His reflexes slowed and his movements became slightly clumsier, more perfunctory than mocking now. The smirk began to fall from his lips as they became a hard line of concentration, the mischief in his eyes dwindling into reflection. Sif watched him, looking for a way to finally defeat him. She saw her chance a few moments later and hastily took it.

A particularly high kick was aimed at his chest and Sif deliberately tilted her head slightly so the book would waver and threaten to fall. She raised her hand towards it, as if reaching to steady the book and feigned a stumble forwards. Loki watched her stumble and, in his own confidence, he did not move out of the way, assuming the book would fall. A scathing comment was already on his lips at her rule breaking, his concentration elsewhere. Sif waited not a moment longer and quickly recovered from her fake stumble, tilting her head and keeping her back straight to bring the book in balance. She finished her kick and planted her foot squarely in Loki’s chest.

The impact knocked him backwards, landing with a loud thud on the hard ground. Sif carefully stepped forwards, her back completely straight. She would not be defeated now! She pushed her foot down on Loki’s chest, preventing him from standing and held the dagger out, the tip of the blade focused on his heart. The blade against the skin of his throat would have been much more satisfying, but Sif did not dare to bend over him and risk losing the book now.

“Congratulations, my Lady. It appears you have beaten me.”

“You yield?” Sif looked down at Loki in confusion. Surely he was not giving up the fight now? He could easily reach to grab her ankle and twist her over, knocking her and the book off balance. No doubt Loki would claim it was merely in defence too, so what was he playing at now? And why did he still smirk at her like it was he who had won?

“But of course, my Lady. Do you not hold a dagger above my heart and have me pinned to the ground?” When Sif still looked at him warily, clutching tighter to the dagger and pushing her foot more firmly into his chest, he continued slightly breathlessly, “I think you have adequately passed this lesson. Sif.”

“Oh!” With all her concentration and determination in fighting Loki, Sif had quite forgotten about the lesson. That, coupled with Loki’s easy submission and infuriating smirk, rather lessened her own triumph.

Still, she did have the trickster at her mercy and she dug her foot into his chest unnecessarily hard. “You may have taught me this lesson, Loki Liartongue, but I still have beaten you in a fair fight!”

“Indeed you have, my Lady, and quite a clever trick you played too.”

His compliment caught her by surprise, she was not used to the trickster complimenting anyone and she brought the dagger down closer to his heart, already on her guard.

“And now that you have beaten me, Sif, would you be so kind as to allow me to stand up?”

With an icy glare and another unnecessarily hard push of her foot, Sif stepped away from him. She felt strangely drained then, as if she had lost the fight, not won it. And perhaps she had, or it was a joint victory at least, for Loki had succeeded too, helping her to balance so confidently and so naturally. She supposed she could at least be grateful for that, and she had still defeated him, tricking the trickster was no easy feat. She twirled the dagger around in her fingers as she coolly watched Loki stand, far too easily for one who had just suffered such a severe fall. He smirked proudly at her, looking pointedly at the book still balanced on her head.

His reaction was already grating on her patience and Sif quickly grabbed the volume from her head and stalked towards the pile of books still sitting by the edge of the pool. She dropped it down heavily on top of the others and felt a small measure of satisfaction when the movement caused the high pile to topple over. Her head felt incredibly light and buoyant without the heavy book and she deliberately fell into her usual slouch, arms crossed as she regarded him. “What next then, oh great teacher?”

Loki did not rise to her mockery and instead a small smile flashed across his lips. But he kept his voice stern as he answered, “Whilst more lessons would not go amiss today, I fear it is too late now to continue.”

At his words, Sif looked around and indeed he was right! She had not realised they had been here for so long and already the shadows were long across the ground. The burning orange sun was already close to the horizon as Sol the sun goddess took her rest. It would be dark soon and the forest was no kind place to remain in at night. She did not fear it, but unlike Thor or Loki, she did not seek out trouble.

“Tomorrow then?” She asked petulantly. Whilst she was about as eager for the next lesson as she was for the ball itself, she was determined that Loki should not skirt his promise to her.

“Here, same time.” Loki answered, already turning away from her to collect his books. He was exhausted and their lessons had barely begun! It did not help that things were becoming so difficult between them. Their arguments would only hinder Sif’s progress and the ball would soon be upon them. He would have to swallow his impulse to do mischief and try to stop goading her so. What might replace their usual animosity though, Loki did not dare to consider. The growing attraction between them was an unforeseen complication, one he could never have accounted for. He never would have dreamed Sif may reciprocate… No. He could not afford such thoughts, not when all of Asgard already had plans to make her their Queen. She was destined for his brother and no fleeting attraction in her youth towards him would change that. He would just have to be more careful, find the right balance between ensuring Sif staying too annoyed at him to consider anything more and yet with enough patience that he could still teach her to dance. It would not be easy and he dreaded to think what the rest of the fortnight would hold.

“And what will you teach me tomorrow, Loki?” Sif called out to his back, her nostrils flaring at his abrupt dismissal, as if she were no more than a child!

Loki paused before answering. There were many more basic skills Sif had to learn and her patience and balance still needed much improvement. And then there was the third lesson which Loki knew Sif would find hardest of all. But they had so little time, the basics and that lesson would have to wait. With a weary sigh he replied, “Tomorrow Sif, I think we had better start teaching you the set dances.”

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_Thanks for still reading and I hope you’re still enjoying it!_

_I definitely plan to update the story soon, but in the meantime, why not check out my other Sif/Loki stories – A Dragon Moves Amongst Us and The Wrong Prince. I’ve recently updated both of them too. Both are here on AO3  
_

_Anyway, thanks a lot for still reading! :-)_

 


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